sine.

"Yes, madam," said Winifred, who stood rather pale before that large and
elegant presence. It was in the front room of the two which Winifred
occupied.

"But--where have I seen you before?" asked Mrs. Carshaw suddenly, making
play with a pair of mounted eye-glasses.

"I cannot say, madam. Will you be seated?"

"What a pretty girl you are!" exclaimed the visitor, wholly unconscious
of the calm insolence which "society" uses to its inferiors. "I'm
certain I have seen you somewhere, for your face is perfectly familiar,
but for the life of me I cannot recall the occasion."

Mrs. Carshaw was not mistaken. Some dim cell of memory was stirred by
the girl's likeness to her mother. For once Senator Meiklejohn's
scheming had brought him to the edge of the precipice. But the
dangerous moment passed. Rex's mother was thinking of other and more
immediate matters. Winifred stood silent, scared, with a foreboding of
the meaning of this tremendous visit.

"Now, I am come to have a quiet chat with you," said Mrs. Carshaw, "and
I only hope that you will look on me as a friend, and be perfectly at
your ease. I am sorry the nature of my visit is not of a quite pleasant
nature, but no doubt we shall be able to understand each other, for you
look good and sweet. Where have I seen you before? You are a sweetly
pretty girl, do you know? I can't altogether blame poor Rex, for men
are not very rational creatures, are they? Come, now, and sit quite
near beside me on this chair, and let me talk to you."

Winifred came and sat, with tremulous lip, not saying a word.

"First, I wish to know something about yourself," said Mrs. Carshaw,
trying honestly to adopt a motherly tone. "Do you live here all alone?
Where are your parents?"

"I have none--as far as I know. Yes, I live here alone, for the
present."

"But no relatives?"

"I have an aunt--a sort of aunt--but--"

"You are mysterious--'a sort of aunt.' And is this 'sort of aunt' with
you here?"

"No. I used to live with her, but within the last month we
have--separated."

"Is that my son's doings?"

"No--that is--no."

"So you are quite alone?"

"Yes."

"And my son comes to see you?"

"He comes--yes, he comes."

"But that is rather defiant of everything, is it not?"

A blush of almost intense carmine washed Winifred's face and neck. Mrs.
Carshaw knew how to strike hard. Every woman knows how to hurt another
woman.

"Miss Goodman, my landlady, usually stays in